


C'mon Angel Don't You Cry

by Roxy_palace



Category: Bandom
Genre: AU, Gift Fic, M/M, shameless self insertions, wishfulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roxy_palace/pseuds/Roxy_palace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Yeah, Gerard recognises anxiety when he sees it...</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	C'mon Angel Don't You Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://try-67.livejournal.com/profile)[**try_67**](http://try-67.livejournal.com/)  for the Beta.  This story is for you alone. 

  


**Title:** C'mon Angel Don't You Cry  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Pairing:** none  
 **Warnings:** Lil'Mary Sue  
 **Length:** 2,993 words  
 **Summary:** _Yeah, Gerard recognises anxiety when he sees it..._  
 **Note:** Thanks to [](http://try-67.livejournal.com/profile)[**try_67**](http://try-67.livejournal.com/)   for the Beta.  This story is for you alone.    
  
  
She’s young; he can tell that much as soon as he sees her.  He’d be willing to bet she’s not even legal, not in New York anyway.  

It’s the way she holds herself: hands twisting in comforting, frantic knots, her eyes skipping up and down the alley as she shifts from foot to foot.   It’s the way she’s dressed too, like her clothes are an afterthought, like the only thing s that matter are going on behind her eyes.  

Yeah, Gerard recognises anxiety when he sees it.  

He’s surprised by the sudden flood of empathy he feels for her, all alone on the corner of a piss stinking, pitch dark alley.  Where are her friends?  Did she come to the show alone?  Is she the only kid in her class who still likes his band?  He has a warm surge of affection for her, the last loyal kid in NYC.

The street beyond is bright with light and the flashing neon of the club’s awning.  Gerard watches as the girl stoops, sticks her head out into the steady stream of kids outside the Ballroom’s entrance.  It’s only a moment before she darts back again, fingers pinching and biting at each other.  

She looks back down the alley towards him and he leans back into the shadow of the stage door.   He doesn’t know what she might do if she sees him.  He still feels kind of arrogant about it, but the last thing he needs is ten thousand over excited teenagers descending on him, and that’s what would happen if she screamed or called out his name. 

 There’s nowhere else for them to smoke, not inside.  There’s only the alley, so management turned off the lights for Gerard so he could smoke in peace.  He knows he shouldn’t be smoking, but...fuck it.It’s his last remaining vice.The universe needs to cut him some slack.

The stage door is pretty far from the street and there’s a barbwire topped fence between him and the fans.  He hopes that’s not a metaphor for...something.

That’s why they’re playing these shows after all.  Shitty punk clubs like the good old days. Get up close and personal with the fans again.  And it has been good.  They’re on the last, hot, leg of the tour and they all still love each other – even Frank, he thinks drily.  No one’s pulled out of the tour in disgust, or strung out on too many nights of no sleep, no wife, girlfriend, no _rest_.

He loves his job again. 

It’s just a pity the fans didn’t rally round in quite the same way.  The new LP is selling, but slowly.  The tour’s been sold out, but they’ve only played one Stadium and that was in Mexico, where the fans set fire to the Hotel lobby in their hysteria.  It’s been...more reserved everywhere else.  

Secretly he doesn’t give a shit.  He knows this new LP is their best work yet.  He knows the sets are tighter, more powerful than ever.  

Toro has outdone himself, and even he knows it.  Bob, who they all secretly thought would never play again, has developed a new, raw style that none of them, least of all Bob, saw coming.  Mikey, his own baby bro, has finally decided to stop pretending he’s not an actual genius.  And Frank.  Frank is the one who made it happen.  The sound he brought back with him from the Leathermouth tour may have started it all, but that tiny mother fucker is clearly gonna finish it. 

And Gerard?  

He laughs out loud. 

Gerard motherfucking Way can sing.

The girl looks up the alley way again.  Gerard doesn’t bother to step out of the glow from the street light so he figures she can see him.  He doesn’t think she’s going to scream or call out or rush at the fence and try to climb over.  Maybe she’s not even a fan, just some lost kid hiding from all the brash ones that have taken over the Bowery.  

She starts walking slowly towards the fence, one hand still tight in the other.   He steps forward into the glow of the distant street lights.

“Um, hi.  Um...” she says, glancing back towards the street before squinting at him. 

Gerard stubs out his cigarette and moves closer to the fence.  The girl looks behind her again.

“I’ve lost my friend and she...do you work...”

He can tell that she recognises him when he steps out of the last of the shadows and she all but swallows her tongue.  

“You’re lost?” he asks, grabbing hold of the chicken wire and leaning into the fence

“You’re Gerard Way,” she says back as if, of course, it’s that guy Gerard Way again, as if she was expecting him.  “You’re Gerard Way,” she says and her face lights up.  

“She told me this would happen,” she giggles.“She said, and I thought she was being...”

Gerard scrunches up his nose.  “Are you ok?”

“My friend, I lost her.  She lives here.  We’re from New Zealand. We’re going to the, your, show at the, at the thing and she’s got my ticket and I lost...she said this would happen... “ The words tumble out of her mouth in a frantic free-for-all.

Gerard is immediately charmed.  He leans back.  

 “Ok...no.  Hang on.  What’s your name?”  

She’s so vulnerable it gives him a second of fear for her.  This is New York frikken city, not Auckland or whatever that place they played in New Zealand was called.  What the hell is she doing all the way over here?

“Tory, Victoria.  Tory.”

“Tory, are you lost?” he asks, looking straight into her eyes, willing her to be calm.  He can call Worm, get him to give her a lift somewhere.  Maybe she’s a tourist or something?

She takes a deep breath, winces and twists up her fingers again.  “No, no...I lost my friend.  She lives in New York, but I’m just visiting.  Just for this show, really.”  She looks up at him and it’s as if she’d forgotten who she was talking to and only just remembered.  Her face goes stark white and hot pink in a matter of seconds.  

He tries not to notice that her hands are shaking.  

“You, you’re just amazing.  You saved my life.  You did,” she stammers.

Gerard has never really gotten over the first time a fan said that to him.  He’d felt so unworthy, so embarrassed – both of himself, for underestimating how much effect his ramblings could have on people, and for the kid with his pinched, earnest, desperate face.  

This girl, Tory, she’s not like that boy though.  She says it like it’s an inevitable truth.  As if she accepts she has to say it even though a million people have said it before and she can’t possibly hope to be special, even if it’s special for her.

“Thank you Tory,” he says, hand on his heart.  “It means a lot to hear you say that. But you know, you did all the saving.  I just...played on the sound track.”  

She laughs, a loud, strong bark he wasn’t expecting.  Her smile is bright and takes up every inch of her face.  Gerard realises that she is quite pretty.  It’s funny how her nervous twitching kind of smothers it. 

“I guess that’s true.  The soundtrack part anyway,” she nods, eyes darting away.

He shrugs, smiling and ducking down to catch her eye again.  “Ok, so you lost your friend?” he says, looking up the alley way.  None of the fans streaming past have noticed them.  

“She has my ticket for tonight.  We got separated when we got here.  I guess she’s gone in without me or something.”

“You said she told you this would happen?”

She stares at him, as if he’s caught her doing something stupid she can’t explain.   “She...”  Tory takes a deep breath. “My friend meets people all the time.  Famous people.  She just does or something.  Anyway.  She told me I’d, we’d, meet you because we just would.  That’s what she said.  And I thought ‘not me’, but...you know...here you are.  So I guess she was right.”  She gestures at him and laughs again.

Gerard really likes this kid’s laugh. 

“Here I am,” he nods.  Her smile is kind of infectious too.  Gerard is really glad she’s a fan.  

“There’s like, so much I want to ask you.”

“Ask away," he says leaning on the fence again.

She looks shocked.

“Do you think...do you mean it?  The stuff you say.  Do you...is it real?”

Ok, so he wasn’t expecting that.  

“I mean the stuff I say.  I mean it at the time.  You know?”

She nods.  “You must get tired of people always holding you to everything.  Like you’re not allowed to make a mistake or change your mind.”

He chuffs a wry laugh.  “You know it.  Gotta watch what you say when everyone is watching what you say.”

“Do you ever want to just...go do something else? Like, I want to be a train conductor because it'd just be...easier...”

He thinks about it for a second.  “Yeah.  I do.  I did that.  I went and wrote the books.  And I drove.”

“You drove?  Where?”

“Everywhere.  Away. “  He smiles to himself.  “I drove away.”

“Well, I’m pretty glad you came back.”

Gerard is glad too.  He’s glad his voice came back with him.

"I liked the break, but it's always good to come back."

She nods.  Her hands relax.

“So...”  He says squinting at Tory.  He looks around at the fence.  “So, you want to come in this way?  See if you can find your friend inside?”

He chuckles to himself when Tory freezes, her eyes glued to him as he jiggles the chain fence open and swings back the gate. 

She steps towards him, slowly and suddenly ducks inside as if she’s worried he’s going to change his mind or something.  This kid, seriously. 

“Come on.  I’ll introduce you to Ray.  He’s got this new game he’s desperate to show everyone.  You’ll love it.”  Gerard opens the stage door for her and nods at Worm when he steps out to bar her way.  

He doesn’t really know why he’s doing it.  Why he’s letting her in.  Just something about her face, her manner.  She doesn’t remind him of anyone, maybe a little of Mikey, in as much as she seems to need looking after, but she’s just this kid who loves his band.  And travelled half way round the world or something insane to see them...and he’ll be damned if he’s going to say no to her. 

“Worm,” he says and rests his hand on the girl’s shoulder.  “This is Tory.  She’s my guest tonight.”

He hears her mutter “Oh, wow. Wow.”   Her eyes are like saucers.

He steers her towards the dressing room – a piss stinking hole in the wall covered floor to ceiling in band posters, graffiti and weird splotchy paint flowers probably left over from some time in the late 60’s.  

Matt is leaning against the cooler in the corner talking to Ray as he pummels a controller in front of a 42 inch flat screen.  It totally kills the punk ambience, but they’re old dudes now, comforts of home are a must.   

Bob sits slumped in the corner talking on his mobile.  He gets up and walks to the other side of the room when they walk in, nodding to them both as he passes.

But before Gerard can stop him, Frank launches himself off a table behind the door and lands squarely on top of Gerard, screeching like a sack of fighting cats.

Gerard yells, “Watch the kid!” before twisting Tory out of Frank’s flight path and grabbing him round the waist. 

“Oh shit!” yells Frank, flinging out a hand to stop himself from ploughing straight into Tory. 

He misses, collects her round the waist too, and is brought up short by Gerard’s restraining arm. 

“Jesus, Iero,” sighs Gerard untangling them all.  Frank continues to cling to Tory, who, to her credit, is giggling and taking it all in her stride.

“Hi,” says Frank, leaning back from where he’s hugging her.  “I’m Frank.”

“Hi Frank!” she squeaks back.

“Frank.  Let the nice under-aged girl go,” says Gerard, prising Franks arms from round Tory’s waist.  

Frank jumps back, grinning.  

“Hi, nice under-aged girl.  What are you doing in my dressing room?”  Frank tilts his head to one side and smiles. 

“I’m lost.”

“She’s lost,” says Gerard at the same time. “I’m reuniting her with her friend. “  

“Oh cool,” says Frank looking Tory up and down.  “Hey, were you in the alley before?  With that girl, with plaits and the Banner t-shirt?”

Tory nods.

“Your friend?” asks Gerard.  He offers her a coke from the rider.  She takes it, nodding as she clutches it to her chest.

“I saw you guys in the alley, then I saw her come in,” says Frank, pausing briefly to chuck an empty coke can at Bob’s head when Bob snorts and rolls his eyes.  

“I happened to notice while I was checking on merch, asshat,” he says to Bob.  The Banner fucking rule.“  

He looks back at Tory.  

“She told the bouncer to look out for you, gave him your ticket.  She was freaking out. “

Tory nods as if her friend freaking out is entirely de rigour.  “She’s inside though?”  

Frank nods, crosses his arms.  “On the left of the stage, in front of my rig.”  He doesn’t even glance at him before saying, “Fuck off Bob.”    

“Well, you’re her favourite so...” says Tory.

Bob laughs out loud.  

“Frank likes brunettes!” he hollars as Frank launches himself across the room at him. 

“Fuck off Bob!”

“Um...ok, lets get you out there then,” says Gerard leading the kid away from the two grown men WWE wrestling in the corner.  Tory kind of staggers out of the room backwards trying to watch as she goes.

Gerard ushers her out through the dressing room and out down the stage corridor.   He hears Frank yell, “Nice to meet you! Tell your friend her t-shirt rocks!” as they get closer to the stage, then all he hears is the thrumming crump of a dirty rock club loaded with people.  

Tory leans out the door to the stage and looks around.

“Can you see her?” asks Gerard, leaning out after her.  

“No.  No...I don’t know how I’m going to find her in that lot.”

She turns round suddenly and Gerard didn’t realise she was standing so close.  She practically face plants his chest.  

“Oh god!” she wails, jerking away and rubbing her nose. 

Gerard grabs her shoulders and gives them a squeeze.    She stares up into his face and smiles again.  

“Thanks.  Thank you,” she says.  “For everything.”

“G!  G Way...ten minutes man.  C’mon. “ Matt pounds up the corridor towards them and slaps his back as he jumps past them onto the stage. 

Gerard looks at Tory.  Her eyes are very blue, very wide and clear.  He’s glad he helped her.  He hopes she’ll be ok now.  He thinks of Bandit all the way on the other side of the country, just waking her mom up, no doubt and he feels...he feels pretty fucking good.  

The energy in the club is like a battery on the tongue.  He’s never felt so awake. 

“It’s gonna be a kick ass show, kid.”  He says and Tory bounces under his hands.

Gerard unlocks the door next to the stage.  

“I think you might have saved my life again, you know?” she says as she reaches for the door handle.   

Gerard stops her, leans down and presses a quick, chaste kiss to her forehead.  “I’m glad, Tory, Victoria. Tory.” 

She pulls open the door and looks out.   Gerard can’t help but notice her hands aren’t shaking anymore.  He figures it’s much warmer in here than out in that alley.

She pushes her way out into the crowd.  Just before the door closes she turns and gives him another of her thousand watt smiles.

Gerard heads back towards the dressing room.  It’s gonna be a kick ass show alright.

*****

“OH MY HOLY FUCK!!!!  TORY!  Oh my god!  You made it oh, my god!  I’ve been freaking the fuck out.  Where the hell did you go?”

Tory leans out of her friend’s frantic hugging.  

“I’ll tell you later!” she all but screams.  “They’re gonna be on in a minute!!”

Almost as soon as she says it the stage erupts in light and there they are.  Her boys.  Her band.  

Her friend drags her through the few people between them and the stage and then there they are, pressed against the chest high barrier, a few feet from the stage.  The crowd around them surges forward, but they link arms and hold their place right in front of Frank. 

Tory grins at her friend who is screaming her head off and bouncing already. 

The boys open with Sharpest Lives which slides into a bolting, hysterical wild horse ride through Black Dragon Fighting Society and Death Before Disco.  

The room is a frikken riot.  Tory has never, ever, experienced anything like it. 

Gerard thanks everyone for coming.  “I gotta say hi to someone tonight.  So simmer down...simmer down....”  

The crowd goes almost silent.  Someone screams out that they love Ray from in back.  

“Oh hi, Mrs Toro!” says Frank into the mic and giggles.  

He’s drenched in sweat already and so is Gerard.  Tory can see the coloured lights bouncing off the slick sheen over his skin.

“Simmer the fuck down Frank!”  The crowd whoops and hollers back.

“I gotta say hi to my new friend, Tory.  Hey T.  This one’s for you....STAY!”

Tory feels a hundred hands reach for her, her friend swinging from her neck screaming the house down.  In the crashing, wailing guitar filled seconds before the chorus, Gerard finds her in the maelstrom.  

And smiles. 


End file.
